Ghosts of the Past
by Knighted Fantasy
Summary: Raoul knows what Christine is thinking about. He can still hear the music too, even after all these years. He just wishes that he could save his lover from the pain that memories bring...from the ghosts of the past. One-shot. Please R&R.


Christine's eyes had that far away look again. I sighed quietly; watching her sit there in the moonlight which heightened her beauty even more if that was possible. I knew what she was thinking about. To me it was obvious. The Phantom. She didn't realize that I knew, but I had for quite a while. Her eyes could not hold that sort of pain while thinking of anything else.

I wished that I could erase the memories. I wished that my love would simply wash over her in waves like the ocean washing away a message in the sand. But I knew that would never happen. The Phantom would haunt her for the rest of her days. She and I were happy together, but even our wonderful days spent together would not let her forget the horror from all those years ago. I sighed again. She didn't hear.

I will never know how the Phantom managed to enchant my Christine and ensnare her senses. I will never know why she didn't cringe away from his touch. There are many things I will never know, and I am partially glad. A mystery such as the Phantom is something that should remain a mystery. One thing I do know however is that some part of Christine _did _love him.

How even the tiniest part of her could love that monster baffled me, but I would not ask. How someone like him with their soul stained black could love someone as pure and good as Christine was also a question I asked myself. And when I thought these things, which I often did, I would simply conclude: Evil will swallow all good if it can. Darkness devours light for the sport. And then I would gaze upon my Christine, and think: How could anyone _not _love her though?

In any case I hated these times when my love would sit and stare into the distance thinking about that murderous beast. I had not been able to save her from him all those years ago, and I could not save her from the memories now. No one had ever made me feel as helpless as that hateful creature. He could hardly be called a man. His soul was far too twisted, if he even had a soul.

I had to admit though, that he _was _a genius. No matter how much I tried, I could not stop myself from losing myself in his music. The notes danced through the air like the sweetest of demons, ever beckoning to sweep one away. I have never been the superstitious kind, but I do not doubt that the music he wrote held a dark magic of some kind. And when I thought of that, I would think that it was most likely the music which had made Christine open up her mind, heart, and soul to him.

Hoping in vain that Christine would stop her line of thoughts I said, "I'm going to bed my love. I have much to do in the morning."

She simply nodded absentmindedly and said in a soft voice, "I'll join you in a little while."

I knew that she would stay for a little while now. Sometimes she would come to me after a few minutes. Sometimes it was hours. And there was no guarantee that she would sleep through the night once she did go to bed. Oftentimes she would wake in the middle of the night, and get out of bed carefully, trying not to wake me. She still did not know that I woke every time. Then she would wander about the house silently. Again, I knew that she always thought about her nighttime wanderings with the Phantom. It was almost as though she was searching for something, and I was nearly certain that it was the Opera Ghost himself.

Tonight was such a night. She joined me shortly after I went off to bed. Soon however, she had slipped out of the covers, and drifted to the window as though in a trance. After a few seconds she looked back towards me, as though considering coming back to bed. She seemed about to walk back, when the wind blew outside, and leaves flew past the window. She immediately jerked her head back to look at the window. This time she was not gazing aimlessly. This time, she was searching.

Her entire body was tense, and she was very alert. I wondered what exactly could make her act in such a way. Perhaps the memories were particularly painful and clear tonight. I got out of bed and went to stand beside her. As I put my hand gently on her shoulder she jumped, then relaxed when she saw it was me. She put her head on my chest, but I could tell that her eyes were still scanning the darkness outside.

Putting my arms around her, I asked, "What's wrong, love?"

She took a deep breath and replied, "Nothing. It's just the wind. Just the wind and my thoughts."

Together we walked back to the bed and crawled under the warm covers. We both fell into an uneasy sleep, and I'm sure that her dreams were as haunted by darkness and sweet music as mine were. Christine woke again in the early hours of the morning. She didn't know that I had woken too. She didn't know that I waited anxiously for her to wander back into the room, and that I watched the tears run down her face as she stared at the rose in her hand. A rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem. She didn't know that I had witnessed the same scene many times before.

I closed my eyes, but that could not stop the tears. The Phantom may not be a threat anymore, but he is not forgotten. He may not be seen by us, but we know he is there. He may not kill anymore, but the sight of the roses and my love's pain is a knife through my heart. For no matter how I try, I cannot banish the ghosts of the past.


End file.
